


She Can Take A Punch

by kittymaine



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fist Fights, Found Family, M/M, Parenting A Teenager, Polyamory, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:26:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22883263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittymaine/pseuds/kittymaine
Summary: Yennefer has to leave to help an old school friend. Jaskier and Geralt disagree on how to parent Ciri in her absence.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 5
Kudos: 145





	She Can Take A Punch

**Author's Note:**

> Geralt, Yennefer and Jaskier are in an established polyamorous relationship in this fic. But, Yennefer leaves in the beginning of the fic and doesn't return until the end. Vesemir is the over indulgent grandpa. I'm very upset that 'non-traditional family' is not a tag, because if there's one tag that could describe this fic it's that.

Yennefer told Geralt and Jaskier she was leaving for the south of continent the same morning she was meant to leave. Jaskier froze in the middle of his morning washroom routine. Geralt paused for a moment where he was squatting by the low fire in their room, but otherwise just grunted in understanding.

“You’re leaving?” Jaskier asked, sounding a little lost. “For how long?”

“I’m not sure,” Yennefer sighed, packing an ungodly amount of things into a small enchanted bag that seemed to be magicked into being bottomless. “An old friend from school is having some issues and needs my help. She didn’t give me a lot of details, so I don’t know how long it will take. I’ll send a pigeon once I know more,” she tacked on with a perky smile as she snapped her bag shut.

“But!” Jaskier exclaimed, fumbled for something to say and then looked at Geralt for help.

Geralt avoided Jaskier’s begging look and instead crossed their shared bedroom to kiss Yennefer goodbye.

“Send for us if you need us,” he told her firmly.

She arched an eyebrow at him as if to say  _ ‘Really?’ _ but instead said, “Of course, love.” She beckoned Jaskier over and he came like a chastised puppy, looking severely worried. “You’ll both be fine, I’m sure. I don’t think it will take long, whatever it is,” she addressed this mostly to Jaskier and then leaned in to give him a warm kiss on his cheek.

Jaskier still looked worried, but didn’t bother to protest any further. He couldn’t even properly voice what his concern was. All of them had broken off to travel individually in the past and nothing terrible had happened then. Maybe it was that he couldn’t remember when Yennefer had left by herself before. Maybe it was that he knew that Geralt and he had spent years circling each other with neither making a move before Yennefer anchored both of them together. But, it felt so immature to worry about something like that after they had been together for years. Surely he was worrying over nothing.

Yennefer started to sweep out of their room, stopping here and there to pick up more of her things and tuck them into her bag. She admonished them on different things they would need to take care of in her absence. 

“Don’t let Vesemir and Ciri spend too long training, they are terrible at enabling each other,” she admonished. “Jaskier, don’t let Geralt drink with Vesemir, he gets maudlin. Geralt, don’t let Jaskier worry too much. Keep an eye on him.” 

Both men trailed behind her until she reached the roof of Kaer Morhen, the winter sky churning with thick clouds that foretold of heavy snowfall in the next few hours.

“Yennefer?” Ciri asked from her spot near the ramparts. She had a heavy leather bound book tucked under her arm. The book was so big that it was almost as long as her whole torso.

“I’ve got to go on a quick trip, darling,” Yennefer explained, beckoning Ciric closer. She tucked her under one arm and hugged her close, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Listen to Geralt and Jaskier while I’m gone. They’re in charge,” she said firmly, squeezing Ciri’s shoulder.

Ciri pulled a face like she had a bad feeling about leaving the two of them in charge which honestly Jaskier agreed with. He was surprised that Geralt wasn’t ‘in charge’ though he supposed that Geralt didn’t always make the best decisions if their personal histories were to be consulted.

Yennefer summoned a swirling portal and stepped through with a cheery final wave to the three of them. The portal closed behind her and just like that they were left alone on the cold stone roof. The three of them stood there staring after her as the clouds finally began to dump fine snow down on them.

“I hope she comes back soon,” Jaskier sighed.

Geralt grunted in agreement.

“Is it time for breakfast?” Ciri asked.

* * *

There was no word from Yennefer for the first six days, though everything else went fine. Geralt and Jaskier fell into a groove. Ciri continued to study with Vesemir with a passion. Vesemir would be happy to spend all day and night putting Ciri through fighting drills or reading through bestiaries with her and Ciri was only all too happy to do the same. Jaskier took to keeping track of how long they spent on any one activity and breaking them apart for meals and breaks. Ciri had agreed to learn how to play the lute, so he was able to use that as an excuse at least once a day to get her to take a break.

Geralt handled all the meals and hunting, which he had already been doing. He was the best cook and hunter, so it only made sense. He also didn’t have a good frame of reference for how much training was too much training and so was unlikely to ever step in on Ciri and Vesemir’s practice. When Geralt occasionally ran out of some ingredient he couldn’t source himself from the woods around the witcher fort or the small patch of vegetables he had planted outside the kitchen door, he sent Jaskier into the nearest town to trade for ingredients.

That was how they split what few duties they had around Kael Morhen. Ciri was very independent and resourceful for her age, so she didn’t need much managing. Vesemir was getting on in age, so he enjoyed having someone else handle to preparing meals and other household chores. Geralt and Jaskier were happy enough to help in whatever way they could with those things.

“Do you think that Yennefer is all right?” Jaskier asked as he sulked at the rough hewn table in the kitchen while Geralt stirred something that smelled obnoxiously good in a big heavy pot over a crackling fire in the hearth.

Geralt grunted, but didn’t otherwise respond. Jaskier had his worries about Yennefer every morning since she left. It wasn’t that Geralt begrudged him this. Of the three of them, Jaskier had developed into the worrier, especially since they had mostly settled down at Kael Morhen with Ciri and Vesemir. The rest of them were cavalier, Geralt knew that. It was probably good to have someone to remind them to worry about things from time to time.

“It will be a week tomorrow since she left and no word yet. Didn’t she say she would send word when she knew how long she would be gone? Do we even know where she is if we need to track her down?” Jaskier babbled.

“Somewhere in the east?” Geralt grunted, furrowing his brow as he tried to recall what Yennefer had said.

Jaskier frowned at the back of his head. “Are you sure? That doesn’t sound right,” he muttered just as a big fluffy dove flew through the window and smacked into the side of Jaskier’s head with a squawk. Jaskier flailed the bird away from his head where it landed on their kitchen table and burst into a puff of white confetti with a single scrap of regular sized paper in the middle.

Jaskier had snapped up the paper before Geralt had time to turn around and read it over. He scoffed in frustration and then tossed the paper to Geralt who caught it deftly. He flipped the paper over and read the short message written in the flowing script of Yennefer’s hand.

> _ May take longer than I thought. _
> 
> _ -Yen _

The message was good enough for Geralt. He knew from the note that Yennefer was fine and wouldn’t worry about her for a while now, but it obviously wasn’t enough information for Jaskier. From experience, Geralt assumed the right amount of information for a normal person was probably somewhere between his and Jaskier’s preference.

“What does that mean, longer than she thought!” Jaskier burst out when he had gotten his outrage under control enough to start spitting words.

Geralt handed the note back to Jaskier who took it absently while he continued to complain loudly and with a lot of gesturing. Their porridge wasn’t going to make itself and Ciri had probably already been up for hours and hadn’t eaten yet. Geralt tasted some of the porridge from the rough wooden spoon and found it wanting. He reached into the waxed paper bag to the right of him and hit the bottom. They were out of salt.

Grunting, Geralt turned back toward Jaskier with a frown. “Jaskier,” he said, cutting Jaskier off mid-rant. “Can you make a run into town today?” he asked.

Jaskier frowned, but allowed Geralt to change the subject. He sighed, but tried to tuck his displeasure away. “I can. What do you need?”

“Salt, for one,” Geralt said, dumping what remained at the corners of the bag into the porridge and then tossing the empty bag aside. “We’re also running out of wax and sugar. Vesemir should have the money, if you ask him.”

Jaskier swallowed a sigh. He might be upset that Yennefer would be gone longer than he thought, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. Their little household still needed to function, so he still needed to hold up his end of their shared responsibilities. “Yes, I’ll speak to him after breakfast,” Jaskier agreed.

“Are you going into town today?” Ciri asked, bounding down the narrow steps that lead into the kitchen two at a time.

“Yes, to pick up a few odds and ends. Did you want to come along?” Jaskier asked.

“That sounds wonderful,” she agreed enthusiastically, taking a seat on the bench beside Jaskier. “Vesemir wants me to ask the blacksmith if he finished my sword.”

Jaskier frowned in concern and shot a look at Geralt who was pointedly not looking toward them. “I didn’t know that Vesemir commissioned a sword for you,” Jaskier said slowly.

“He said I’m doing so well with the practice sword that I should start training with a real one. But, we didn’t have any that were small enough and not almost rusted through,” Ciri said proudly.

Jaskier tried to give Ciri a proud smile, but the thought of her with a real sword, one with a real blade and point, sort of made him sick. Why did this have to happen while Yennefer was gone?

Shortly after the sun has peaked above the bare treetops, Jaskier and Ciri set out together for the small village that sat at the bottom of the mountain that Kael Morhen squat atop. Both were wearing layers of clothing beneath their heavy cloaks to try and keep the snow and cold out. Ciri obligingly carried a net bag that was currently empty but which would carry their supplies back up the mountain.

“Jaskier,” Ciri said quietly as they approached the town.

“Yes, darling,” Jaskier said with a smile. His mood was improved just by being outside and walking, having something to do.

“You don’t like that Vesemir ordered a sword for me. Do you not want me to learn how to fight?” she asked in a small uncertain voice.

Jaskier glanced down at Ciri in surprise. “Oh, Ciri, that’s not it!” he exclaimed, stuttering to a stop. He placed a gloved hand on her shoulder. Even under the many layers, her shoulder felt small, the bones bird like. “I think it’s wonderful that you’re learning to fight. I’m sure you will be as fierce as Geralt and Yennefer combined once you are grown. I just worry. It’s a dangerous business, all this sword fighting and whatnot, and I love you very much. You know that, don’t you?” he asked, squeezing her little shoulder just slightly and trying to give her the most earnest look he could manage.

Ciri gave him a small quiet smile, that uncertainty banished from her for the time being.

“Yes,” she replied. “I love you too,” she enthused as she leaned forward to wrap her narrow arms around Jaskier’s neck and squeezing him with more strength than seemed human, surprising a laugh out of Jaskier.

It took the better part of that morning and past noon to gather the different supplies that Geralt had requested. Ciri had disappeared as soon as they reached the town and he had only seen her a few times running here and there with a few other children around her age that lived in the village. It was good to see her with kids her own age, so Jaskier left her alone and focused on his own tasks instead.

When it was time to go, Jaskier had to go trekking around town looking for her. He was kicking himself for not agreeing on a time and place to meet up before he waved Ciri off that morning. He followed the directions of various mothers and grandmothers around town until he tracked the group of kids to a small stream that ran along the east side of the town. He heard them before he saw them and was immediately put on edge by the cadence of the voices he heard, the sharp edges of anger and fear coming through in the high strident voices carrying over the babbling of the creek.

Jaskier quickly followed the voices and burst through a low bush to see Ciri pinning a boy nearly a full head taller than her down in the frozen mud and punching him in the back of the head. There were three other boys moaning on the ground around the first and two more hesitating to intercede. Ciri was muddy and she had smeared blood across her cheek from where her nose was bleeding, but she was easily the most intact of all the kids there.

“Take it back!” she was screaming, still wailing on the bigger boy’s head even as he sobbed into the mud.

“CIRI!” Jaskier yelled as loudly as he could, freezing the girl with her fist drawn back for another strike. When she looked up at him with big eyes, he could see the fear and regret fall over her like a pall.

“Jaskier,” she said in a small voice. “I-”

“Come here. Now!” he shouted when she hesitated.

As soon as Ciri got off the boy’s back, he rolled onto his side and curled into a ball crying. The remaining two boys who were standing a few feet away skittered around her, giving her a wide berth as she crossed the muddy clearing to Jaskier.

“Jaskier, I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice.

Jaskier put a protective hand to the back of her head and drew her to his chest. “We’ll talk about this once we get home,” he told her in a low voice, something in him shivering at what he thought could have possibly caused this. Ciri was not a violent girl, not to his knowledge. She was sweet and smart, but she had also been training in violence for years now. Had what she learned at Vesemir’s knee so changed her?

Jaskier hoped not and did his best to put aside his guesses until he could sit down with Ciri and Geralt and talk to her about it.

The walk back to Kael Morhen was cold and silent and miserable. Jaskier carried the bag of provisions over his shoulder where he would normally carry his lute. Ciri trudged silently behind him, her clothes crusted in mud that steadily froze over as they climbed higher and the sun fell closer to the horizon. Neither of them said anything to each other the whole walk back.

“Go change your clothes and then come meet me in the kitchen,” Jaskier said quietly once they crossed through the gates into Kael Morhen.

Ciri ducked around him and into a nearby door that would lead her toward her tower bedroom.

Jaskier sighed and felt like he had walked twenty miles rather than just the three from town and back. He walked to the kitchen and thumped his bag down on the kitchen table. Geralt wasn’t in the kitchen, but the fire was still relatively lively, so he must have been there somewhat recently. Jaskier sat heavily at the kitchen table and tried to think of what he would say to Ciri when she came in. He was the right age to have a daughter Ciri’s age, but he didn’t feel prepared to be the adult in a conversation like the one he was about to have. He wanted to be more fair to her than his father was to him. He had vivid memories of spirited thumpings over little more than nothing at his father’s hands. At the same time, he didn’t want her to think that violence should be the resolution to every situation. She would have more than enough violence in her life once she grew up to become the witcher she was training so hard to be.

It took a while for Ciri’s light footsteps to come down the back staircase. He was sure that she took her time getting changed and coming to him. He would have if he was her. He didn’t mind. It gave him time to think of what he wanted to ask and he was sure it gave her time to think about what happened and what she wanted to say.

Ciri stopped in the doorway and Jaskier beckoned her to take a seat on the bench beside him. They ended up sitting very close to the same spots they had been in for breakfast that morning.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Jaskier asked.

Ciri didn’t look at him, hadn’t met his eyes since she first stepped into the kitchen. She kept her eyes trained on her hands where they twisted in her lap. “They were calling me names,” she muttered.

“So you beat the snot out of them?” Jaskier asked, making his disapproval clear in his voice.

Ciri’s brow creased, her mouth turned down in the corners. “You didn’t hear what they said,” she protested.

“You’re right,” Jaskier agreed, “I didn’t. What did they say?”

Ciri was quiet, peering down at her hands. Jaskier thought that there were probably one two reasons she wouldn’t want to repeat the insults the other children had slung at her. Either they were not so bad to warrant a beating and she had overreacted or they were so bad she couldn’t bring herself to repeat them to Jaskier. Jaskier loved Ciri and didn’t think she was an impulsive girl, so his money was on the latter explanation.

Jaskier sighed heavily and put one of his hands over Ciri’s hands to stop her from wringing them.

“You understand why I was upset, don’t you?” he asked her.

At this, Ciri did look up at him and she looked like she might not know. “You don’t like violence?” she asked.

Jaskier frowned back at her. “Well, yes, but that’s not really why.”

“Then, why?” she asked, looking distraught at not already knowing the answer.

“Ciri, despite being smaller you are significantly better trained than those boys. Even though almost all of them were bigger than you, you had four out of six of them down in the mud. You had that boy crying,” at this Ciri looked down, her expression ashamed. “I know that in the past, those boys may have been more than a match for you, but that’s no longer the case. Even if they picked the fight, you had an unfair advantage over them. If you aren’t careful how much strength you use, you could seriously hurt someone in anger.” Jaskier paused to tilt Ciri’s head up so that she was looking him in the eye. He wanted her to really hear this next part. “You are a kind and smart girl and I know that if you hurt someone more than they deserved, you may never forgive yourself. I don’t want you to have to live with something like that,” Jaskier said quietly.

Ciri’s eyes welled with tears, her pretty eyes shining before they overflowed down her cheeks. With a small cry, Ciri threw herself into Jaskier’s chest and he quickly wrapped his arms around her. Her small frame shook in his arms and she felt so fragile and so precious. He wanted so much to protect her from a world that was going to have a hard time understanding her. He knew he couldn’t really do that, but he hoped he could love her and prepare her as well as he could for what was to come.

After comforting Ciri and telling her that he wanted her to spend the next day clearing stones out of the courtyard as punishment for beating up the village boys, Jaskier went back up to the bedroom he shared with Geralt and Yennefer and collapsed on their bed. He meant to just rest for a short while and then get up and find Geralt to explain what happened, but when he next opened his eyes the room was dark save for a few guttering candles set in sconces on the walls.

Groaning, Jaskier rolled over onto his back and rubbed the heels of his hands over his eyes. Sitting up, he saw that Geralt was sitting on a low bench across the room and pulling off his own boots.

“Bollocks. Did I miss dinner?” Jaskier grumbled.

Geralt grunted, but otherwise didn’t answer. Jaskier frowned and tried to see Geralt’s expression, but the candles didn’t cast enough light for Jaskier to see him very well.

“Did Ciri tell you what happened in town today?” Jaskier tried for a casual tone, pushing himself to the edge of the bed.

Geralt threw him quite the look and oh yes he was angry. That was quite clear.

“I assume you don’t approve,” Jaskier said slowly.

“Vesemir agrees with you,” Geralt growled, sounding more than a little miffed about it. Geralt tossed his boots to the side with unusual anger. He pulled roughly at his shirt, yanking the laces loose. “He’s agreed to oversee her punishment as some kind of inventive strength training.”

Jaskier tilted his head to the side. That was clever of him. He had meant it to just be something tedious but otherwise harmless. Leave it to Vesemir to see how clearing rocks would help build muscle. 

“You and Vesemir disagree. How unusual,” Jaskier mused, kicking his feet on the side of the bed. The flagstone floor was freezing cold against his bare toes.

Geralt glowered at Jaskier and yanked his shirt from where it was tucked into his pants. “She was defending herself. She’s going to have to keep defending herself for the rest of her life. It’s stupid to punish her for it,” Geralt growled, showing a little bit of his sharp teeth with a raised lip.

“Yes, because you definitely go around beating the daylights out of any ignorant villager who mouths off at you,” Jaskier said wryly.

“That’s different,” Geralt snapped.

Jaskier pulled a face, but didn’t reply. Geralt was jerkily pulling off his loose shirt and breathing much too hard for such an easy task. His breath clouded in the cold air of the bedroom. He hadn’t stoked the fire yet, something that Geralt always did. Obviously, they were arguing about something else, Jaskier just wasn’t sure what exactly.

“She’s strong,” Jaskier offered as a gentle change of direction for the conversation. “She beat the shite out of four boys and only got a bloody nose for her trouble. Intimidated two more into nearly pissing themselves. I don’t know if she included that in her recounting.”

Geralt grunted, slowing down where he was violently pulling at the laces of his breeches. “She’s fierce,” he agreed. “That doesn’t mean she deserves to be treated like a monster. She’s not one,” Geralt said mournfully.

Jaskier frowned down at his knees and Geralt stared at his open pants like he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do next.

“Come here,” Jaskier said quietly. Geralt came without a word, stopping in front of where Jaskier was sitting on the edge of the bed.

“You’re still dressed,” Geralt commented, running a rough scarred hand through Jaskier’s mussed hair.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” Jaskier admitted, leaning into the touch. “Help me undress?” he asked.

Geralt put a knee on the bed beside Jaskier’s leg and Jaskier obliged by scooting back so Geralt had more room to crawl on top of him. All of the frustration and anger had leaked out of Geralt leaving the careful attention that Jaskier was used to, that he loved.

Geralt carefully undid the buttons and clasps of Jaskier’s outfit, removing his tunic, his many times patched socks, ending with his own breeches. The cold of the room made the hair on his body stand on end and Geralt frowned as he watched the goose pimples rise wherever his hand went.

“Shit,” he spat once realization set in. “I forgot to start the fire.”

“Start it later,” Jaskier breathed, leaning in for a kiss. “You’ll keep me warm enough.”

* * *

Yennefer returned five days later in the middle of the night.

“That woman is a fucking idiot,” she spat as soon as she got back. “Move over,” was the next thing she said, shoving Jaskier over in bed so that he was squished in between her and a sleepy Geralt.

“I guess you didn’t have much fun?” Jaskier asked quizzically, marginally more awake than Geralt. They had just gone to bed a few hours ago and Geralt was a heavy sleeper while they were in the fort, for whatever reason.

“Cleaning up other people’s mistakes is not my forte,” Yennefer sighed, shucking off her chemise so that she could press nude skin against nude skin. Jaskier shivered and rolled his back to her to protect his stomach from her ice cold skin. They were a riot of naked limbs under the covers.

“Ciri beat up four boys from town last week,” Jaskier told her as she tucked her head into the curve of his neck. He happily rested his head against Geralt’s shoulder and let her sap his body heat.

“Good for her,” Yennefer said sleepily.

“Jaskier made Ciri clean up the courtyard for it,” Geralt grunted from Jaskier’s other side, still sounding a little sulky about it.

“Good for him,” Yennefer muttered, snuggling down further under the piles of blankets they were under.

Jaskier scoffed and tried to elbow some room for himself between his two lovers, but failed to do more than squeeze himself more firmly between the two.

“I’m glad you’re home, Yen,” Jaskier muttered, after giving up on gaining some space for himself.

“Me too,” Geralt grunted.

“Glad to be home,” Yennefer sighed before starting to snore against the back of Jaskier’s neck.

Jaskier stared at the far wall of their shared room and savored the warmth of being pressed between two people that he trusted so completely. Even though he and Geralt could function well enough without her, he was happy to have Yennefer back. Their little family was all together again and everything felt right with the world for a brief moment.


End file.
